By Dare Akogun
Victims of the blast in Offa, Kwara state, recount painful near-death experiences, with many losing their only source of livelihood.
When Quadri Saka stepped out of his home late on Christmas night to buy a recharge card, he thought of nothing more than returning quickly to bed.
Moments later, a deafening blast tore through his neighbourhood near the Eid praying ground area of Offa, a bustling commercial town in southern Kwara State.
Walls collapsed. Roofs flew off. Homes that had sheltered families for decades crumbled in seconds.
Quadri had unknowingly walked away from death. Inside the house he had just left was his mother, Moromoke Saka, asleep on her bed. “The wall fell where I was lying” Moromoke recalls the moment vividly.
She had barely drifted into sleep when the night exploded around her. “I was lying down when I heard a very loud noise,” she told The ICIR, sitting on a low stool beside the ruins of her home the following morning.
“Before I could understand anything, the wall fell exactly where I was sleeping.”
Dust filled the room. Blocks crashed to the floor. Part of the roof caved in. Darkness swallowed everything. For some moments, I couldn’t move,” she said. “I was shouting ‘Allahu’ and calling my son’s name. I thought that was how my life would end.”
Outside, panic spread through Offa. People screamed, ran barefoot into the night, and abandoned their homes, unsure if more explosions would follow.
Quadri was already on his way back.The blast happened just as Quadri approached his street. “I heard a loud bang,” he recalled. “Something brushed my ear, and I fell to the ground.”
Disoriented and covered in dust, he stood up to a scene that no longer looked familiar. People were running. Buildings were damaged.
Then he saw his house had collapsed. “My mum was inside,” he said, his voice breaking. Without waiting for help, Quadri ran toward the rubble, shouting his mother’s name until he heard her respond faintly from inside.
“She was alive, but she couldn’t move,” he said.
Using the back of the building, one of the few sections still standing, Quadri dragged his mother out. Neighbours gathered around them in shock.
“If I had stayed inside,” Quadri said quietly, staring at the fallen wall, “we wouldn’t be here talking now.”
Their survival, mother and son believe, came down to seconds. The explosion that nearly killed the Sakas was not a single incident.
Between 10 p.m. and midnight on Thursday, December 25, at least two incidents were reported in Offa, one near the Eid praying ground and another around Solid Worth Hotel, about five minutes away.
Although no deaths were officially recorded, the blasts injured residents, destroyed homes and businesses, and left the town traumatised and searching for answers.
Like Moromoke, Musa Soliu was asleep when his life changed.
“My roof was blown open. I was already sleeping when I heard a loud noise, Soliu told The ICIR.
“Before I could understand what was happening, the wall of my room collapsed, and my roof was blown open.” Trapped briefly under rubble, he crawled out with injuries.
“A block fell on my chest,” he said, pointing to bruises. “My leg was also injured.” The next morning, Soliu returned to salvage his belongings.
Instead, he found an unfamiliar object among the debris. “I don’t know what it is,” he said. “People were saying it is part of a missile. I only know that everything I own is gone.”
Unable to afford hospital care, Soliu said he has been living with pain since the incident. Offa’s identity as a commercial hub meant the blast not only destroyed homes.
Alaba Awodele, a furniture maker, recalled that his workshop was damaged beyond recognition. “They said a bomb had been thrown into my shop,” he recalled.
“When I rushed here, I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
The machines he depended on for his daily income were destroyed. Furniture meant for customers preparing to move into new homes for the New Year lay broken.
“This is my source of livelihood,” Awodele said. “I don’t even know how to start again.”
Nearby, Mary Oyagbile stood inside her damaged fashion design shop, staring at ruined sewing machines and appliances.
“All my machines, my freezer, everything was destroyed,” she said softly. “I kept asking myself, what did we do wrong? It was like a movie” At Solid Worth Hotel, operations were immediately suspended.
Surajudeen Adewale, an engineer who is a relative of the hotel owner, described the moment of the blast.
“It was terrible,” he said. “It happened like something from a movie.” One staff member sustained injuries and was later discharged from the hospital, but the incident forced the hotel to shut down temporarily. “This has affected our business,” Adewale said.
Security officials, he added, suggested the object involved was not a locally planted explosive. For nearly 24 hours, Offa residents lived with uncertainty, rumours and fear until the Federal Government issued a formal explanation.
In a statement by the Minister of Information and National Orientation, Mohammed Idris, the government confirmed that the explosions in Offa were caused by debris from precision-guided munitions deployed during a joint Nigeria–United States military operation against Islamic State (ISIS) terrorists in Sokoto State.
According to the statement, the strikes targeted two ISIS enclaves in the Bauni forest axis of Tangaza Local Government Area of Sokoto State, following approval by President Bola Ahmed Tinubu.
The operation, carried out between 12:12 a.m. and 1:30 a.m. on December 26, involved 16 GPS-guided precision munitions deployed using MQ-9 Reaper unmanned aerial platforms, launched from maritime platforms in the Gulf of Guinea.
Crucially, the government confirmed that debris from the expended munitions fell in Offa, Kwara State, and in parts of Sokoto, including near a hotel.
“No civilian casualties were recorded,” the statement said, adding that security agencies promptly secured the affected areas. For residents like Moromoke and Quadri Saka, official explanations do little to erase the trauma and loss.
As evening approached the next day, many residents refused to sleep in their homes. “Any loud sound now scares me,” Moromoke said, clutching her wrapper tightly. “When night comes, my heart is not at rest.”
Quadri said he keeps replaying the moment he decided to step out. “It was just a recharge card,” he said. “Just that small thing saved my life.” Across Offa, survivors share the same haunting thought: how close they came, how easily they could have died.
While the Federal Government has reiterated its commitment to national security and the fight against terrorism, residents are now calling for transparency, support and compensation for victims whose lives and livelihoods were shattered by a war fought hundreds of kilometres away.
Standing beside the collapsed wall that nearly killed him, Soliu looked dejected and lost “God spared us,” he said. “But we are still waiting to understand why this happened to us.
This is part of the ICIR terror series, read it HERE.